Drunk Blaine
by AngelicKat445
Summary: I love me a drunk Blaine!  heart  This is dedicated to my wife, Cissa aka Kenzie!
1. A Phone Call

**Soo, here we are. This is for my dear friend, Kenzie, for we both are in LOVE with drunk Blaine 3 Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>Ring-ring! Ring-rin<em>_g!_

"Hello?"

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeey Kurty!"

"Um...Blaine?"

"Hellz yea, beeeeeeach! Hehehe..."

"Um, are you oka-"

"OMIGOODNESS!"

"What? What happened?"

"KURT!"

"Yes..."

"I HAVE FINGERS!"

"...Umm...Blaine, are you drunk, by chance?"

"One minute, I need to stock up on be- I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE OUT OF BEER, I NEED IT! Damn, these idiots...at least I have yoooooooou, Kurty!"

"Do you want me to call someone, or get you home? Where are you anyway?"

"Naaaaaw, n-naaaaaaaaaw, I just...I just need to...to..."

"No, stay on the line, Blaine. Stay on the li-"

"HOLY FUCK!"

"What?"

"Finn is TAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALL!"

"What? What does that...wait, is Finn there?"

"Maaaaaybe...so Kurt...what are you wearing?"

"What?"

"'Cause I think you is some smmmmmmmmexi."

"Uhh...kay, if you will just tell me where you are, and I can come get you."

"Mmm...you gonna play games? Like 'I'm gonna getcha!' And...yeaaaa..."

"...Um, okay, Blaine, this is starting to get weird. I'm going to hang up now. Okay?"

"I've decided you can't walk in front of me on the stairs anymore."

"What? Why?"

"'Cause you ass is SO PERFECT, I just want to grab it! But I can't because we're in public, and...then...you would hate me..."

"..."

"I miss my Kurty-Furty-Wurty...come back to me!"

"Um...okay, this is getting awkward, so I'm leaving."

"I loooooove you."

"I'm hanging up now."

"Okaaaaaaay."

"Byyyyye Blaine."

"BYE!"

* * *

><p><strong>xDxDxD Kenzie is laughing at my side as I type, so I suppose that means it's good! Review! :D:D3 I love drunk Blaine :D<strong>


	2. Stripping

**I'd like to start by saying that this is co-written by my wife, Kenzie :) (check her out on my profile, stupid thing wont let me say her name) Look her up! Everything after 'I couldn't stop staring' in the 6th paragraph is her's :) ILY KENZIE!**

* * *

><p>I sucked in, trying not to laugh at the sight before me. I had just driven over to the location of the party that Blaine had just called from, and come across possibly the most frightening and yet most smexiest scene ever.<p>

Blaine.

Stripping.

He swivelled around on the table, completely oblivious to the catcalls coming from around him. I had to bite down on my fist to keep from bursting out in laughter. One guy in the audience reached up and slapped his thigh, and he just made a face at the abuser and moved on.

First off was the shirt. His arms pulled on the bottom of the dark gray, fitted, V-neck tee, and I watched in awe as more and more of his peachy skin came into view. Finally, it was off completely, and he twirled it around in the air like a lasso. Then it flew into the crowd.

I couldn't stop staring at his beautiful abs. He wasn't bulky, like some of the dipshits at Dalton, but muscular in his own way. I couldn't stop staring. I'd always thought he was hot. This was just proving my point.

The boys around him where laughing and watching in awe. I decided that I should probably stop staring at his - GODLIKE - body like an insane person, but I couldn't bring myself to look away. Oh, and don't get me started on his amazingly sculpted ass that his tight black skinny jeans hung to as if for dear life. I couldn't help but to wonder if he played sports or if he worked out.

When I looked at the back of his body now, I could see something pink in his hair. I realized they were the pink sunglasses he was so fond of.

Now, I was hoping that the stripping stopped at just the shirt. Sure, it was funny as hell, because he was so drunk. But still, I didn't think I'd be able to control myself if his pants were to come off. I walked through the the crowd of drunk boys, trying to find a way to the table Blaine was dancing on.

The song was coming to a close and fading out. I was only a few feet away when hazel eyes locked onto mine. I watched as he jumped off the table and pushed through the crowd himself.

"Hey, Kurty! You're here! Come on you gotta come dance with me!" He started to pull me through back to the table. Before I had time to object, I was being lifted up next to my friend.

"No, Blaine, come on. You have to go home." Just as I started to talk, the music came back on and blocked me out. I knew Blaine didn't hear me.

"Kurty, you gotta daaaaaaaaaaaaaaance!" Blaine laughed. He grabbed my hands and started to move mine. "Dance like you meeeeeeeeeeeeean iiiiiiiiit!"

"Blaine lets get out of here," I complained. I moved toward the end of the table, and, to my suprise, he followed.

"Why? Ooohh..." He jumped off the table and I heard collective amounts of disapointment come from the crowd.

When we get out to my car, his hand clasped around my wrist, and I was spun around, and pimned to the door of the driver's side. I felt his his breath on my neck, and soon his lips as they trailed up and down my vulnerable throat. His hand slid down my side and stopped to rest on my ass. He lifted my leg so it was off the ground, and pushed me harder against the car. As much I would usually  
>wanted this with every fibre of my being, he was drunk, and I wasn't going to take advantage of that. I pushed him off, hearing him groan and try to reassume his position.<p>

"No, Blaine, I'm taking you home," I tried to tell him.

"So we can have more _privacy_. I get it _nooooooow_." _No, Blaine, you don't._

"No, so you can get some sleep."

"Okay," he finally said, and fell silent for a while. I thought he was a sleep until he spoke again. "Have I ever told you that your ass is amazing? Like, it's perfect! I just wanna reach out and grab it, but I can't because, then, everything would go to shit. And we couldn't have that. Because if we're still friends, I can look at your ass all I want. If we weren't, then it would be creepy."

He looked out the window, his eyes glazed. "You're hot, you know that? And I wanted to bang you the first day I saw you. Just saying."

I felt heat creep up my neck at these words. _Look on the bright side, Kurt_, I thought. _You have somethings to hold against him now._

* * *

><p><strong>Hahaha! I love it, actually :) Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to my co-writer, Kenzie! :D:D REVIEW! Or no more drunk Blaine!<strong>


	3. Proposals and Stairs

"C'mon, Blaine. Here we go. Into the house."

I was incredibly thankful that my dad wasn't home this weekend. He would've flipped if he'd seen me with drunk friend - who happens to be a guy. Things like that just don't work out well when your me. Or when your gay. Take your pick.

Blaine grinned wildly as I half-carried, half-dragged him through the front door of my house. I wasn't sure why I had decided to take him here, but the damage was done, because there was no way in hell I would be taking him to his house. His parents were nice people, but I didn't think they'd take too kindly to their drunk son and his gay friend coming home from a wild party. It didn't give off a very good impression.

"Kurty?" Blaine sighed as I hung him over my back. This was another moment I cursed his being taller than I.

"Yeah, Blaine?" I grunted with effort. He sighed again, exerting more weight, but I kept him atop me.

"We should get married."

This time, I did drop him. And onto his ass, no less. But he was too smashed to notice or care. He remained on the top step of the staircase, looking at his fingers like he was imagining a bright gold wedding band on one of them.

"W-what?" I breathed. I understood that he was in a drunken state, but this was absurd. Even for an intoxicated Blaine.

"We should get married," he repeated confidently. His eyes now strayed to my face and he smiled at me with such childish happiness that I wanted to say yes just to keep looking like that.

"Uhm...yeah, I heard you, but I don't understand -"

"We -" He motioned between the two of us "- should get married!" He made as though tightening a bowtie, straightening a suit jacket, then murmuring words and kissing the air. "And go on honeymoon!" He started to hump the banister. All I could do was shake my head this antics.

"We'll discuss it tomorrow, Blaine," I said calmly, and helped him to his feet. With difficulty, we began to wobble down the stairs, his arm around my shoulder and mine his.

"When we get married," he began happily, "Can I be the bride?"

"You want to wear a white dress?" I asked comically. He nodded with vigour, making me roll my eyes.

"I have one picked out!" he cried. "I have since I was seven! It's really long and ivory and has no back and long sleeves embroidered with pearls and -"

"That's nice, Blaine," I cut over him. I didn't really want to know what his fantasy wedding dress was like. But the damage was done. All I could think about was Blaine's sexy ass squeezing into a wedding dress.

_Damn his beauty._

"And I have a tux picked out for you, too!" he went on. Then he went into detail about his fantasy groom's tuxedo. Apparently, he'd been having the same thoughts as I was him. One giant hot damn mess. _Oh, bad thoughts, bad thoughts!_

We somehow were able to get into my bedroom unharmed. Blaine was still rambling on about how he thought I'd look better in mauve than violet. I dropped him onto my oversized bed, and he scooted over the right side of it.

"Come to bed!" he cried happily. I shook my head, but in the back of my mind, a little lusty voice murmured, _How did he know you liked the left side better?_

"No, Blaine," I told him firmly, shaking the voice away. "You're going to bed. I'm gonna get some water, some Pepto Bismol, and a bucket. Lord knows the side effects this will have on you."

I got up to leave, but was held back by a tugging, nagging voice that belonged to my secret crush. "At least can I have a goodnight kiss?"

Slowly, I turned back and saw his face. His beautifully pale skin was glistening with sweat and the mood lighting I always had. His dark curls, usually slicked back, were a bit unruly and actually fell onto his face a bit. His god-like nose, shining hazel eyes, and thin lipped smile only made it more difficult to say no.

So I didn't.

I walked towards him, palms sweating. He was suddenly smiling like an idiot again. I leaned down to kiss his cheek, but he turned midway, and our lips connected. Fireworks erupted behind me. I attempted to pull away and apologize, but I was held onto. His hands held the back of my neck and tugged my hair a bit. I found my entwining themselves around his body so that my smaller limb was on the small of his back. I was pulled closer until I was on top of him.

He rolled me over until we were both on our sides. His lips attacked mine with such ferocity and passion that it gave me the feeling he'd wanted to do this for a long time. _So have you_, the lusty voice told me fiercely, and I could only agree with a moan.

"I love you, Kurt," Blaine mumbled against my lips. That shook me out of my reverie. I somehow managed to pull away. The taste of vodka and cherry Chapstick remained on my mouth. Blaine didn't look fazed by my leaving. He simply rolled over, pulled the blankets to his chin, and snuggled up.

"Night, Kurt!" he cried warmly. I really wanted to say something intelligent. Maybe to go back to our previous pose. But I knew better.

"Night, Blaine," I replied quietly, and went upstairs.


	4. The Morning After

**NEW POV! I wonder whose it is ;)**

* * *

><p>"<em>What the hell...<em>"

I rolled over slowly, careful of my head. It was throbbing heavily as though someone had used it as a basketball last night. I wanted nothing more than to pull the sheets over my head and just go back to a semi-peaceful sleep. But upon thinking thus, I rubbed the sheets between my fingers. They weren't white cotton. They were satin, soft and crimson. Over the sheet was a comforter with a plaid black and red wine design.

This wasn't my bed. It took a moment to think of why this was so, and I could only come to one conclusion: I'd gotten smashed and fucked some guy. Or maybe even a girl. The possibility made me shiver.

From somewhere above me, I heard gentle trickling, footsteps. Was it him/her? What would they say after this (maybe) one-night stand? Was he/she a psycho? Did they want to fuck again? Thinking about such things made my mind swim. I simply wanted to take a piss, get some sunglasses, and leave.

I swung my jean-clad legs over the side of the large bed, tried to stand up, and after three more tries, was able to keep balanced. One hand went to my stomach as it churned viciously. Something hot and bubbly burned my insides. Before I could think, I pulled the first thing I could - thankfully, an empty Kaleidoscope Kow ice cream tub - and vomited. The taste was bitter and - on second thought, you probably don't want to know what my puke tastes like.

Walking was a challenge, but I managed it with the help of my surroundings. I knocked over several Liza Minnelli CD's and pulled down an entire drapey orange curtain, but no one above seemed to notice or care. This was a blessing.

As I went up the stairs, small things hit my mind. Like a sudden image of a wedding dress I had seen in one of my mom's bridal magazines. And an off-purple bowtie with a tuxedo. I licked my lips gently and tasted French vanilla icing flavored lip balm. Not mine.

The kitchen was vaguely familiar, but nothing I could place in my hungover state. Coffee wafted through the air. I had the urge to salivate and find the sustenance that was practically calling my name.

On a blue granite counter was an old-fashioned coffee machine, making strange chortling noises as it produced more of the delicious liquid. I quickly grabbed an empty mug sitting next to the sink, put in cream and sugar first - I like it that way, don't judge me - and then added the actual coffee. After one gulp, the damned fuzzy vision unfogged a bit.

"Good morning, Blaine."

I nearly jumped out of my skin when he heard words coming from someone else, and turned to the dining room to find Kurt Hummel sitting at the table, flicking through a magazine. He looked casual enough, but we were good friends. I could tell something was up. If only I could remember...

And then it all hit me. Well, most of it. The stronger stuff, such as my stripping and attempting to get down the staircase. Kurt had been by my side the entire time. Man, did I owe him.

I slowly went towards the aformentioned boy and took the seat at the end, next to him. He didn't look up from his magazine. If someone else were to see him, they would've thought he was just engrossed in the article about how egg whites were exceptionally good for your hair. But I knew him. He wasn't really reading.

"Thank you," I murmured, and took his hand. He didn't move it, but did tense a bit, and I pulled back to give him space. He looked up now and a slightly sad smile came across his face.

"Do you remember last night at all?" he asked quietly. I shrugged and took another long sip of coffee.

"Not entirely," I replied evenly. "Bits and pieces. Something about fingers and...and wedding dresses."

Kurt let out a laugh. "Yeah, you, um...you kind of proposed to me last night," he chuckled. I almost joined in, but didn't, because his eyes - his gorgeous brown eyes - were so sad. I leaned closer to him, but not so close that he'd freak out.

"Please tell me what I did," I mumbled. Kurt eyed me nervously, then let out a shaky breath and went into detail.

_Holy fuck, was I bad when I got pissed like that._

Finn's height, yelling for more beer, stripping on a table - that explained why I was shirtless - Kurt's car, our staircase fiasco, saying we should get married, humping the banister, kissing Kurt.

I literally stopped breathing when I heard that last one. I had kissed him. Twice. Our first kisses had been thanks to my drunken mind. It wasn't true love like I'd always hoped. In my imaginary settings, we would be walking to his house and stop at the park, and in the streetlamp light, we would share a kiss so passionate yet so tender that we'd both know it was destiny. It wasn't supposed to be a goodnight kiss gone wrong.

"Shit," I groaned, rubbing my hands over my face. Kurt didn't move. His perfect face was expressionless. I wanted to say something to comfort him, tell him last night never happened. But it had. The damage was done.

"Anything else?" I inquired finally. Kurt started to shake his head, but stopped abruptly. I immediately knew I didn't want to hear whatever he would say. But I braved it out and listened to his words.

"You told me you loved me," he muttered quickly. My walls broke down. I dropped my hands from my head and grabbed Kurt's smaller limb. I couldn't pretend anymore. I needed to tell him.

"Kurt, I wasn't lying," I began gently. He looked stunned. Like, literally. As though someone had shot him with a tranquilizer gun. "I love you. Jesus, I've loved you since the day I met you. The day I saw you supposedly spying on the Warblers...God, I'd never seen anyone so amazing. Then I met you and you were so beautiful inside and out. And, as I had said earlier in the night, your ass is perfect. And I'm afraid of losing you, having you hate me. So if you don't feel the same way, please just tell me and we can go back to nor-"

My rant was cut short by a pair of firm lips upon mine. I instinctively closed my eyes and let one hand tug slightly at his light brown hair. He replied eagerly by pulling me close. My tongue ran along his lips, begging for entrance. He gladly let me in. I'd never been so deep in something so wonderful. I urged myself not to take him right then and there when he pulled away to breathe.

Breathing seemd so mediocre.

"I love you, too, Blaine Anderson," he panted. I grinned wildly and resumed the position. And Kurt didn't object.

* * *

><p><strong>Yay! Happy ending! This is the final chapter, my loves :) I'm surprised this got so many reviews, but not complaining. I really like Blaine's little speech. He's such a perfect guy.<strong>

**Or, as Kenzie would say, totally 'supermegafoxyawesomehot'. We are complete addicts to Darren Criss 3**


End file.
